Butterfly
by Snake79
Summary: Nothing is ever quite what it seems. AU. Neville/Draco. A/N: Chapters 3 & 4 have been rewritten.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Butterfly

Author: Snake79

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. The first section of this fiction is almost entirely JKR, I take no credit.

Main Characters: Neville/Draco, Severus.

Rating: R

Summary: Nothing is ever quite what it seems.

A/N: warning for hints of non/dub-con in later chapters.

**Butterfly**

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," said Malfoy, his voice cool, calculating. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you…"

"He's dot alone!" Neville shouted, blood pouring from his nose. "He's still god be!"

Harry was standing on the dais, facing the Death Eaters – defiant, proud.

Neville knew somewhere deep down, that it was useless to try and help, and yet he had to do something; he stumbled down the stone benches towards them, Hermione's wand in his hand.

"Neville, no, go back to Ron."

It was a little too late for that now –

"STUBEFY!" he shouted. "STUBEFY!"

One of the Death Eaters caught him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled and kicked, but to no avail. He could hear them laughing.

"It's Longbottom, isn't it?" Malfoy sneered. "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause …"

_She_ was there.

"Longbottom?" she repeated, a malevolent smile lighting her face. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy."

His blood ran cold, fear and overwhelming hatred coursing through him. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to make her pay, but at the same time he wanted to run for his life. He fought to get away, thrashing and punching – desperate, angry. His captor said something he didn't quite hear, and she was speaking again.

"No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents …"

No, this couldn't happen. He kicked and writhed like a thing possessed as she drew closer to him, her wand raised.

"_Crucio!"_

He woke, heart pounding in his ears, sweat beading on his skin.

His eyes focussed on misted glass, countryside streaking quietly by; his head bumped against the window as the Hogwarts Express jolted beneath him. He rested back in his seat and closed his eyes, trying to calm his breathing, but her voice followed him from the dream, a whispered promise: "That was just a taster!"

Standing up, he stretched and then moved to the door; he'd splash his face, get a little air – that usually did the trick. He'd been having the same dream almost every night since the end of last term; always with her, always with that whispered promise.

No one noticed as he left, they were all secure in their illusory bubbles, discussing their summer holidays, all still trying to pretend that You-Know-Who hadn't returned. The corridors were mostly empty, quiet; which was why he was surprised to round the corner and bump into Harry.

"Harry," he breathed, then after a moment: "How are you?"

"Not bad," Harry answered with a small, almost sad smile, "could be better."

"Me too,"

They stared at each in silence, awkward, neither really knowing what to say, and not wanting to bring up what had happened at the end of last year. Neville could tell that Harry was still mourning the loss of Sirius Black, even though he really didn't understand why.

"So, why don't you come and join us?" Harry asked, pointing towards a compartment a little further along; he could just make out Ron and Hermione, and if he weren't mistaken Ginny and Luna too.

"Thanks, Harry."

It made him happy to think that he was now part of something bigger than himself – accepted. Harry nodded and then moved off down the corridor in the direction Neville had been headed; towards the bathroom. He smiled and rested against the window edge, watching the trees fly by, content to wait. It was only after ten minutes that he started to get curious - how long did Harry intend to stay in there?

He walked the few steps to the bathroom door and knocked softly, not really wanting to disturb. There was a shuffling from the other side, a scuffling sound and then a thump.

"Harry, are you alright?" he asked, wary.

"Yes," came the abrupt reply. "Yes, I'm just getting changed, one moment."

The door opened a slither and Harry peered out at him, cheeks flushed, slightly out of breath. He frowned, then smiled and, tucking something into his pocket, stepped out into the corridor.

"Sorry about that, Longbottom," Harry said jovially, a complete contrast to minutes before. "I didn't realise I was taking so long."

"That's ok," he responded, not really knowing what else to say; he wasn't used to Harry calling him by his surname, and there was something in his eyes that seemed not quite right; a shadow almost.

"I'll be off then,"

"Sure."

Harry disappeared down the corridor without a backward glance.

* * *

He'd decided not to take Harry up on his offer to join them, preferring to keep his own company. He settled back into his seat and reached into his bag, pulling out the latest issue of the Quibbler. But, try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that he'd let something slip by that he should have questioned.

The compartment was getting more rowdy the closer they got to Hogwarts; everyone eager to stretch their legs, meet old friends, and settle back into their dorm rooms. Neville decided to take another walk, possibly change into his own robes. Maybe he'd bump into Harry again, and then he could find out what was going on.

He didn't really want to bump into Harry.

He bumped into Malfoy instead.

"Well," Malfoy muttered, "if it isn't the troublesome chit, himself."

Neville blinked, he could barely see Malfoy in the semi-gloom of the lanterns; half his face in light, the other in darkness.

"How are you enjoying all the attention, Longbottom?" There was a harsh lilt to Malfoy's words. "It must be quite nice to finally be recognised for something, even if it is for getting my father locked up in Azkaban."

He began to back up, not comfortable with the closeness – he could practically feel the waves of hostility coming from Malfoy.

"I don't want any trouble,"

"You should have thought of that before you got involved." Malfoy hissed, bringing his face to an inch before Neville's. "Aunty Bella would so like to meet you again."

Neville reacted before he could stop himself, jerking away from Malfoy as if he'd been slapped. Malfoy sneered. "Things are going to change around here, Longbottom," he whispered, so close to his ear. "And when they do, you'd better pray I get my hands on you before she does."

Neville didn't move as Malfoy stepped back; he didn't move as Malfoy walked away; he didn't move as Malfoy disappeared from sight.

When he did eventually turn, his heart skipped another beat – there in the shadows stood Harry, green eyes distinguishable in the little light, face without expression, just watching him, studying him.

"Harry," he ventured.

But Harry looked away.

* * *

Things quickly settled back into routine, the days filled with learning, the evenings filled with whatever anyone chose to fill them with. Nothing untoward had happened since their return yet Neville still wasn't entirely convinced. It wasn't anything specific just a look that lingered that bit too long (not friendly just curious); a selective amnesia.

Ron and Hermione were suspicious too, he'd seen them muttering quietly among themselves when Harry wasn't around.

He looked up, hearing voices outside the bathroom door; one clearly Malfoy's. Not eager to be caught alone in a rarely used part of Hogwarts, he quickly pulled up his zip, put down the lid, and just as the outer door opened, hopped up onto the toilet seat. Someone quickly checked the stalls, a cursory search to make sure they were all empty and then:

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Harry hissed.

"I know what I'm doing," Malfoy answered. "It's just taking longer than I thought."

"You don't have that kind of time," Harry barked. "You have your orders. If you don't think you can do it, then –"

"I can and I will."

"You'd better. Everything else is in place; we don't need you messing up."

They fell silent. Neville dared not move, dared not breathe. There were footsteps, heading away, and then the bathroom door opened once again and they were gone. He waited a few minutes longer and then, deciding it was safe, stepped back down to the floor.

He'd obviously been right to worry about Harry.

He opened the stall door and stopped short.

Malfoy was standing by the sinks, staring at him. Neither of them spoke. Malfoy looked tired, the circles under his eyes more pronounced in the weak light from the high window. After a moment he looked away, turning around to stare at his reflection in the cracked mirror, his face becoming distorted, disjointed; broken.

The sudden surge of emotion _compassion _took Neville completely by surprise.

"You don't seem to be having much luck staying out of trouble."

Their gazes met in the mirror.

Malfoy turned back to him, resting his hip against the sink edge and crossing his arms at his chest. Neville didn't know how to respond, but he was saved the discomfort when the bathroom door swung open and a group of first years bowled in, chatting excitedly; their conversation dying when they saw the two sixth year students facing each other across the bathroom.

Neville took the opportunity, ducked his head, and made a hasty exit. He would've been foolish to think that was the end of it.

* * *

The sun woke him, harsh and bright in the gloom created by the hangings around his bed; a strip of light that fell across his face and then was gone. It took a moment for his eyes to readjust, a moment for him to understand that someone was there, approaching him.

He pushed himself up on to his elbows, only to have a hand push him forcefully back down.

He was about to protest when he saw the gleam of silver, and felt the cold steel against his throat.

"Not a sound," Harry warned. "Do you understand?"

He nodded, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

The bed dipped beside him and then Harry was straddling his chest, pinning him down. He reacted instinctively attempting to push him off but the knife cut into him and he stopped as suddenly as he'd started.

"There are a few things we need to get clear." Harry whispered. Neville could just make out his shape in the darkness.

"Who are you?"

Harry laughed; the hairs on the back of Neville's neck stood up.

"I'm Harry."

"No, you're not."

Another laugh, closer to his ear this time; Harry was leaning over him.

"Then who am I, Neville?"

"I don't know, but you're not Harry."

Silence, all he could hear was his own panted, panicked breaths.

"And if you know what's good for you, you won't go shouting about that," all the laughter was gone from Harry's voice now; he leaned in closer, moving his body down to lie tight against Neville's, a knee insinuating itself between his legs; he placed an ear to Neville's chest. "Your heart's beating so fast, like a little butterfly trapped in a jar."

Neville struggled, feeling for the first time the erection pressed into his thigh – he fought even harder.

"Don't." Harry spat, but Neville didn't listen; he continued to writhe beneath him, hands grabbing at the edge of the bed, the side of the cabinet; trying to find anything that could help him. The knife cut into his throat again and he gasped.

His hand brushed against something on the cabinet and it crashed to the floor; his drinking glass – it smashed and water went everywhere. Harry sat back on his heels, listening; there was movement in the room, sleep disturbed. He met Neville's gaze and then drew back and away, stepping quietly to his feet.

"This is the only warning you'll get, Longbottom."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

"Neville,"

He looked up from his parchment, and managed a smile for Hermione, pleased for the distraction – he'd been staring at the same line of text for the past hour getting no further then the title; his mind kept slipping back to Harry and the small cuts on his neck left by the blade.

"You've been a bit quiet today, is everything okay?" she continued, taking the seat opposite him; the library was practically empty, only one Hufflepuff student occupied the table at the end of the aisle. Neville didn't say anything at first, then taking a breath he spoke:

"I'm worried about Harry," his voice was so low he wasn't sure she'd heard him. She looked distracted, a frown marking her forehead; she turned away from his gaze and stared off into the empty space of the library.

"So am I, Neville."

He thought about asking her what she planned to do about it but then changed his mind, if he didn't want trouble then he shouldn't go looking for it – on that he and Malfoy were in complete agreement.

"We'd better get to Defences," she said, standing up – changing the subject. "We don't want to be late."

"Yeah," he sighed; the last thing he needed was detention with Snape on top of everything else.

They didn't talk as they wondered through the thronging corridors to the DADA classroom.

* * *

He was reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed, even more so to leave the arms and legs and lips of the woman in it. But he had class in twenty minutes and if he didn't move now than he'd never get back to the school on time. She moaned as he got up, the cool air making her shudder and reach for him where he'd been only moments before.

Her hand groped, once, twice and then she opened her eyes and stared at him:

"Going somewhere?"

He continued to pull his trousers on, slowly doing up the buttons, before reaching for his shirt.

She sat up a little further against the pillows and pulled the duvet closer around her; she always looked amazing even just woken from sleep with her blonde hair tousled around her shoulders.

"I have class in fifteen minutes," he said by way of explanation and she raised a slender eyebrow at him:

"You could always cancel; say you have a headache or some such thing."

He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots and she moved forward, the cover falling away to expose her beautifully formed body, the swell of her breasts. He continued to concentrate on his boots, determined not to look at her. She pulled up close behind him, thighs around his waist and began to nibble at his ear.

"Severus," she muttered - a breath on his neck, "just a little longer."

"I really have to go, Narcissa."

A hand snaked up under his shirt and gently began to trace one to the scars on his back, her tongue trailed down his neck. He moved his head slightly to face her and she kissed him, a kiss which he deepened when he turned and pressed her back against the bed. It always felt so good to have her beneath him.

She sighed as he kissed her throat, moving down to her silk-soft breast. She laughed as his hand moved up between her legs, moaned as he softly stroked her. He felt himself growing hard once more and pulled away quickly.

"I have to go."

"A little unfair, don't you think?"

He smirked, stood up and reached for his cloak. Crossing to the fireplace, he turned back to the room, the Malfoy crest on the bedspread catching his eye.

"I'm sure we can finish this later."

Before she could respond he threw a handful of powder into the grate, stated his destination and stepped into the green flames. When he stepped out of the fireplace again he found himself in The Three Broomsticks, with only seven minutes to spare before start of class. He ducked into the foyer, grabbed his firebolt from where he'd left it earlier and, mounting his broom, headed for Hogwarts.

He entered the room a little behind Granger and Longbottom, and took his place at the head of the class.

"Shall we begin?"

* * *

They became silent, finished conversations, turned to face him - awaiting his instruction.

Slowly, he let his gaze travel over them, pausing a little too long at Potter, who met his stare and gave a small knowing smile. There was something different about his eyes, about his presence. Severus recognised that look, but not on Harry Potter. So, it had begun. Longbottom sat low in his seat beside Potter, looking uncomfortable, if not a little afraid – his eyes continuing to stray to the pictures along the walls.

Once class began in earnest, Longbottom rose from his seat and made to move to another table but Potter caught him by the elbow, pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. Longbottom glanced uneasily around and then, after a pause, once again took his seat – he visibly shrank into himself as Severus passed by.

The practice session, which he explained carefully, started well – the students all working on deflection charms in pairs which he had chosen. He wondered among them, raising an arm here, correcting an incantation there, mind drifting absently forward to that evening.

There was a commotion over to his left and he turned to see Longbottom sprawled on the practice mat, staring incredulously up at Potter. He reached them just as Longbottom got back to his feet.

"What's the matter, butterfly?" Potter hissed, only audible to those close by. "Not still worried about me, I hope."

Longbottom glanced fleetingly at Granger, who stood to the side wide-eyed, clutching at Weasley's arm.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Severus asked; voice barely louder than a whisper.

"No problem, professor." Potter replied, giving him a look that clearly warned him to back off. Severus frowned, held the green eyes for a moment and then looked away, he really knew better than to get involved with this. Robes flowing around him, he turned away – deliberately not looking at Longbottom.

It really was no business of his – he had his own troubles, his own demons to kill. Longbottom would just have to deal with his own.

* * *

And his conviction held until Longbottom disappeared, to be followed shortly after by Potter, Weasley and Granger, and he found himself turning to Draco Malfoy for explanation.


	2. Chapter 2

He found Draco walking the 4th floor corridor, looking decidedly agitated – even more so when he noted Severus' presence; he turned as if to walk in the opposite direction and then, seeming to think better of it, waited for Severus to approach.

"Draco, I've been meaning to talk with you,"

"Yes, Professor…?"

Draco made no attempt to hide his displeasure at being interrupted. He looked almost too gaunt as he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, and it seemed to Severus in that instant that this was not the same boy who had once exuded such good health and promise – this boy was a shade.

"I'm sure it hasn't escaped your attention that certain students have gone missing," his words turned to vapour the moment they left his mouth, and a cold breeze ruffled the hair at his neck.

"I don't know anything about that," Draco replied, suddenly preoccupied by something outside the window just beyond Severus' right shoulder.

"I think you do."

Draco's gaze came back to his; there was a defiant set to his jaw which Severus recognised all too well – it meant, I don't want to have this conversation.

Severus however, was persistent.

"I want to know what's going on."

Draco hesitated a moment longer and than said:

"I did try to warn Longbottom, but he wouldn't listen,"

"Go on," Severus prompted, ignoring for the moment the improbability of Draco's words.

"The moment Eugene found out he knew something, Longbottom was in trouble. Eugene couldn't take the chance he'd talk. Of course, I couldn't take that chance either."

Severus frowned. "And who exactly is Eugene?"

"I don't know, exactly." Draco paused, as if reluctant to betray confidences. "They say that you don't want to cross him though, that he's dangerous."

Severus knew without asking that 'they' were the many neophytes new to the Dark Lord's cause – gossip was always ripe among the lower ranks; how much of it was true however, remained to be seen.

"They say that he made Rogiers disappear."

"And, I suppose, he's now made Longbottom disappear?"

"Yes."

Draco's gaze once again drifted to the star-studded sky and he restlessly shifted weight from his right to his left foot.

"And Potter…?" Severus once again prompted.

They were silent for a short time and then Draco said:

"I'm not sure where he is, I lost track after Eugene replaced him."

Severus heard the lie in Draco's voice but decide now was not the time to force the matter. He found himself wandering again just who exactly this mysterious Eugene was.

"And Weasley and Granger…?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you." Draco replied, finally losing all patience with the conversation. "All I know for sure is that I've been told to watch Eugene, so that's what I'm doing. Now, I have things I have to do, Professor, so if you don't mind."

Severus didn't attempt to stop him.

* * *

He once again called out but, like the other many times, only his voice echoed back to him. He turned away from the bars, and paced the small area for what must have been the hundredth time. The cell was only big enough for him to walk five steps before reaching the cot bed, and it was cold.

Neville perched on the edge of the bed and stared absently at the walkway just beyond the bars. Water dripped in one of the corners, an insistent tapping that quickly bothered him.

The bruise above his left eye throbbed.

A sudden breeze caused him to stand up; the torch-flame flickered ominously and almost went out; his gaze once again searched the small space but there was nothing other than stone walls and steel bars. He moved to stand with his back to the wall furthest from the entrance. Footsteps grew louder, and then began to move away, in the opposite direction to where he was being held.

He let out the breath he'd been holding, not sure if he should be pleased or not.

He heard metal bang on metal, a sudden clang that made him jump – it happened twice more and then there was silence. Even though he preferred to stay with his back firmly against the wall, he stepped over to the bars. As he leaned into them, his face turned to see what was happening, he heard the murmur – softly spoken words that seemed to hold nothing but malice.

There was no response other than the movement of chain and a moan.

He pressed further against the bars, trying to catch a glimpse of who was talking but could only see damp walls. Frustrated, and more than just a little scared, he moved away, returning to the secure feel of stone against his back. At least now he knew he wasn't alone in this dismal place.

Something scuttled by his foot and he jerked away. The rat darted back into the gloom, scurried along the base of the wall and out the bars. Neville watched its progress with something akin to dread; his gaze followed it down the corridor, watching as it stopped to sniff at a pool of water, a black leather shoe.

He watched as the person stepped into the little light from the single torch.

It was Harry.

But not Harry…

Harry stared at him and he stared back, unsure of what to do. After a short moment he asked, albeit reluctant:

"Who are you?"

The other boy looked at him once more, as if considering whether to answer or not. He shrugged.

"Well, I don't suppose it matters now. You can call me Eugene."

He smiled; a predatory gleam to those familiar green eyes.

There was noise from upstairs, raised voices, and he turned, his attention drawn instantly away from Neville.

"I'll be seeing you, butterfly." He muttered before disappearing back into the shadows.

It was days before Neville saw anyone else.

* * *

There was shouting and the sound of many feet. He sat up quickly. There was sobbing and a harsh word. He stood up and moved toward the bars. It was just as he reached them that the new arrivals came into sight. Ron and Hermione. He gasped and Hermione spun round to stare at him; she looked a mess, her hair matted and wet, her face and clothes spattered with mud – there was a nasty cut on the side of her lip.

"My god, Neville; you're alive."

"Hermione, what…?"

But before he could finish his question they were both shoved passed, one of the men practically carrying Ron, who Neville could now see looked a lot worse for ware; there was a blood trail from a wound on his head, and his foot dragged along the floor uselessly beside him.

They were put into separate cells and the doors secured. The men turned and left, giving him no more than a sideways glance.

He rushed to the bars and leaned out as far as possible.

"Hermione, are you okay? What happened?"

"They threw him down the stairs, Neville," she choked. "Ron?"

There was no answer.

Neville stepped back, desperate to do something but knowing he couldn't. Sudden light flooded the area and he covered his eyes from the glare, stepping back and away; trying to find the shadows. As his eyes became accustomed it was Draco Malfoy who swam into vision. Neville blinked back the tears, automatically wiping his eyes with the back of his shirt sleeve.

"Malfoy…?" It was Hermione. "I knew you were involved."

"Of course you did, Granger; after all I'm the secret mastermind behind every dastardly plot, am I not?"

Neville continued to stare at him; he really didn't look well.

"I think Ron has a concussion," Neville ventured. "He's losing blood and his leg might be broken."

"And you're telling me, why?" Malfoy actually sounded angry. "Is it my fault that these two imbeciles decided to go on some kind of rescue mission and then got caught?"

"We were trying to find Harry…" Hermione sounded tired, but not defeated.

"Well, you've found him." It wasn't Malfoy who spoke this time, it was Eugene – Neville stepped back a little further.

"You're not Harry." She growled.

"What are you going to do about Ron?" Neville asked, bringing the attention once again back to him.

Malfoy huffed and turned away, summoning a house elf.

"Why bother, they're all going to die anyway?" Eugene muttered, not quailing under Malfoy's cold glare.

"Not in my house."

Neville gasped again and Malfoy briefly looked at him before walking away and back up the stairs.

"Malfoy's can be such sensitive creatures." Eugene said with a small hollow laugh. "I wish I could stay and talk but with a dungeon full of Gryffindor's I think I have some explaining to do."

"You can't just leave us here." Hermione shouted, indignantly.

"Yes, I can."

The light went out so quickly they were plunged into darkness, the only sound now coming from the elf who worked on Ron's wounds. Neville went back to the cot bed and sat down; resting his head in his hands, he waited along with Hermione. It wasn't long before Ron regained consciousness.

"Hermione, where are you?"

"I'm here, Ron; and Neville's here too," she sounded calmer now, the slight hysterical tinge gone from her voice. "We're in the Malfoy dungeons."

"Oh, great!"

* * *

He arrived at the Manor to the sound of Narcissa arguing with someone in the lounge and, deciding it best he wasn't seen, took the stairs up to her private rooms. It was dark and he made it his first order of business to re-light the fire. Then, with nothing better to do, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

It was almost an hour before she joined him and by then he was close to sleep. She moved up along the bed and snuggled down beside him.

"Trouble?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

"You wouldn't believe me, Severus." She ran a finger lightly over his chest in a small circular motion; distracted. He knew that she missed having Lucius around to take care of undesirable business; and if truth be told, Severus missed him too. Their night-time hours weren't the same without Lucius' meticulous attentions. Azkaban was no place for one such as him.

He opened his eyes and she kissed him, moving to lie across him. He deepened the kiss, grabbing her hair in his fist and pulling her closer; she moaned but didn't protest. After a time, which seemed too short to him, she pulled away, brushing her hair back over her right shoulder.

"It's Eugene!" She stated angrily. "He's treating this house as if he owns it!"

"He's here?" Severus asked, all thought of sex instantly leaving him.

"Yes and he has people in the dungeon…"

She looked miserable as she leaned in to kiss him again. He allowed it, letting her tongue trail along his jaw and suck at his neck. His hand absently caressed her breast, pinched a slightly protruding nipple and then, feeling nothing, he sighed and gently pushed her away.

"What is it?" she asked, her stare questioning.

He gave no reply as he strode across the room and out into the corridor, ignoring her angry expletive – he'd make it up to her but now he intended to find this Eugene. The house was silent, all the torches burning low and he stepped quietly; the last thing he wanted this evening was to bump into Draco.

He was well aware where the dungeons were; he and Lucius had spent much time down there during the early stages of the first reign, 'talking' with certain unlucky individuals. It seemed now as if young master Malfoy was following in his fathers footsteps. The entrance hall was empty, moonlight from the tall windows making the shadows seem darker.

The dining room was also empty, the glint of silver on the permanently set table only briefly catching his eye. He moved through the lounge and entered the study through the south door, the sight of the bare desk making him pause – a stark reminder that Lucius was no longer there. He turned and noting the pulled back carpet and dark entry, knew that he had been correct in his estimation.

Taking a lamp from a nearby end-table he began to descend the stone steps, careful not to draw attention. There was the sound of a struggle below, a struggle interspersed with brief cries of no and stop; and he reached the bottom just in time to see Potter (but who he knew was Eugene) shove Longbottom backward on to the bed.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" a voice that sounded very much like Granger's shouted from a cell a little further along. She was ignored. Eugene grabbed Longbottom by the hair and pulled his head back, moving to first straddle and then lay upon the other boy; he leaned forward and licked along one cheek.

More footsteps from above caused Severus to step back into the shadows.

Draco appeared, his cheeks flushed.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, incredulous.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Eugene replied, not turning away from the struggling boy beneath him. He caught Longbottom's arms and forced them up over his head.

"No," Longbottom gasped. "Let me go!"

Draco stood, his face impassive, watching for only a moment before making his decision.

"Leave him alone, Eugene."

Now he was ignored, as Eugene reached down to tug at Longbottom's belt buckle. Draco stepped forward, grabbed Eugene by the back of his shirt and heaved him away.

"I said, leave him alone."

"What do you care?" Eugene shouted angrily.

"Not in my house." Draco shouted back, equally as angry.

Draco turned away. Eugene glared at Longbottom for a long minute, and then followed Draco up the stairs. The torchlight flickered and went out.

"Neville, are you…okay?" Granger asked, her voice catching a little.

"Yes, I'm fine." Longbottom replied, his voice quivering only slightly as he held back a sob.

Severus had seen enough.

He now knew what manner of boy Eugene was – one that took what he wanted, and didn't pause to ask questions (least of all on morality). He once again took to the stairs, careful to ensure that the two boys were no longer in the vicinity before emerging from the dungeon access.

Within minutes he was back in the safe confines of Narcissa's chambers, back in her warm embrace. Giving into her determined kisses, he turned his thoughts away from the dungeon. He'd decide what action to take, but not this evening; this evening was already spoken for.

* * *

Draco glanced from left to right before pushing open the door and entering the room. It was dark but he could see the desk ahead in the light from his wand, leather bound books piled precariously one on top of the other. To his right was the bed, Eugene's clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor.

Cautious not to disturb anything he edged forward; removing the candle from his pocket he lit it and placed it on the only empty space available on the desk. He knew that Eugene wouldn't be back for the rest of the evening (not after their argument); plenty of time for Draco to find out exactly what he needed to know.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is a rewrite of chapter three.**

It wasn't as easy as he'd thought, the books were mostly archaic by design and, no matter how he tried, Draco just couldn't see what Eugene would want from them. Flicking through a few more obscure pages he got up, blew out the candle and left the room, exactly as he'd found it. His head hurt and he still had another few hours research before bed.

The clock on the hall mantle chimed 2.30am.

The memory of his visit to Azkaban earlier that day came back to him unbidden and he found himself suddenly weak, drained. He'd been insistent that this time they would grant him access to see his father but they'd once again turned him away. He sat down heavily in one of the high-backed chairs, rested his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes painfully, but nothing could dispel the memory; he could still see the empty eyes staring back at him from dark cells, could still feel the despair.

He stood up quickly, knowing that if he remained seated he would once again spiral into his own despair and he'd get nothing else done tonight. And he was close to finding the answer; to completing the Dark Lord's mission; it would only take a little more effort and then he'd have the cabinet working.

Instinctively, Draco turned his mind away from the second half of his task, of what he was required to do, and turned his thoughts instead to Eugene. He knew that Eugene was planning something, something he was almost certain the Dark Lord wouldn't like.

He settled into his favourite chair in front of the library fire and pulled the books to him; he was close, very close. It was the sound of the book hitting the floor with a thump that eventually woke him and for a moment he didn't know where he was. The fire had died down to almost nothing and he was cold. He reached down to retrieve the book, becoming aware as he did of the erection pressed against his thigh, impossible to ignore.

Leaning back, he brought his hand up and slowly began to caress; his eyes closed, he saw once more the soft brown gaze on him, lips parted as if to speak; he recalled their closeness, so close they could have kissed; he recalled the smell, fear and something that reminded him of comfrey – fresh and pure.

His breathing grew faster, small moans that filled the room. He hated that he felt this way, hated that the other boy could do this to him without even knowing it, without even suspecting it. He thought about what it would feel like to kiss those lips, and see the confusion flash in those eyes. He thought about what it would feel like to lay him down, and run his hands over every available inch. He thought about…it was too much…he came with a cry, waking a few of the portraits that hung along the walls.

His cheeks flushed, he rearranged his robes around him, and stood up.

None of this would be happening if his father were still here...

* * *

"We've got to get out of here!" Ron said for the hundredth time, and both Hermione and Neville moaned. He'd been saying the same thing for the passed two hours, and yet none of them had been able to do anything. Neville knew there was no way out of his cell, he'd checked and rechecked everything, pulling at every bar and pushing at every stone, looking for weakness – all he'd managed to do was dislodge one brick from the wall; there was nothing else.

Sinking once more onto the mattress, he rested his head back against the wall. The guards would be here soon with breakfast; he could hear their heavy boots on the stairs. And, as the sound got loader and closer, an idea slowly began to form in his mind, and as it took shape, a sweat slowly broke out on his palms and he felt the muscles in his arms and back tense.

One guard moved to the far side of the dungeon, just as Neville knew he would; the other moved to Ron's cell, instructing him to stand at the back of the small space before opening the door; he held his wand on Ron the whole time. Hermione received the same treatment. Neville, however, knew he would not - they didn't see him as a threat.

He remained seated as the guard entered his cell. The man placed the tray on the floor, his wand still tucked safely into his belt. Neville, knowing that this was possibly their only chance, clenched his fist around the rough edge of the brick he'd dislodged earlier and as the guard turned away, brought the heavy rock down on his head; there was a sickening crunch and the man dropped to the floor.

Heart hammering against his chest, Neville quickly grabbed up the wand just as the other guard ran into view; shouting the first spell that came to mind, _Expelliamus_, he watched the other man sail through the air, hit a wall and crumple to the floor.

"Neville," Hermione shouted. "What's happening…are you okay?"

For a moment he couldn't move, the adrenalin making him feel light-headed, and then he walked the few paces to Hermione's cell, wand at his side. She gasped as she saw him, surprise on her face, but before she could ask any questions he threw her the wand and ran back for the other one. Wrenching it from the hand of the fallen man, he ran the short distance to the other end of the dungeon.

So far, everything was going far better than he'd hoped…

He skidded to a halt outside the only occupied cell, and stared at the person chained to the opposite wall. Even though he knew that speed was of the essence, he couldn't help but pause; if it weren't for the green eyes staring back at him he wouldn't have recognised Harry Potter under the layers of dirt, and blood.

Neville moved quickly, but Hermione and Ron moved quicker – they were both passed him in an instant and Neville was almost glad not to have to enter the cell. Turning on his heel he ran back to the stairs; there was no noise from above.

Perhaps, they stood a chance after all…

* * *

Severus stretched, luxuriating in the feel of water around him, his muscles beginning to relax after the exertions of a few hours previous. Narcissa had left by the time he woke, but had instructed breakfast to be prepared and a small but sufficient spread awaited him when he left the bathroom.

It was as he sat looking out over the Malfoy grounds, that his mind once again turned to the children in the dungeon; Potter, no doubt, among them. He knew he should have questioned further the unexplained 'return' of the missing students so soon after his conversation with Draco.

He sipped his tea, not able to decide if the children were here by design or simply victims of circumstance; from Draco he understood that Longbottom had undoubtedly been in the wrong place at the wrong time and earned the interest of someone he rather shouldn't; Weasley and Granger – well, only they knew what had brought them here, but it was almost certainly something both noble and reckless.

Placing his cup back on the saucer, he stood up and went to the window. It still unnerved him, how easily they'd managed to replace Potter. Eugene was an almost too perfect replica, and Severus hadn't once detected the tell-tale signs of polyjuice potion. And then there had been what Draco had told him: that Eugene was dangerous and needed to be watched.

He was readying to return to Hogwarts, when he heard the shouts of guards from below, and albeit reluctant to involve himself in whatever was happening, nonetheless felt a responsibility to Narcissa. Exiting the room and taking the stairs at a stride, he reached the first floor landing just in time to see Longbottom run passed the corridor ahead.

Without further thought, Severus took chase.


	4. Chapter 4

******A/N: This is a rewrite of chapter four.**

He'd been turned around so many times he had no idea where he was, all the corridors looked the same. He'd been separated from the others some way back, and only hoped that they were having more success then he was. He rounded another corner, adrenalin propelling him forward.

He was completely unaware of the danger until something bowled into him, bringing him crashing down to the ground. And he went down hard, crying out in both pain and surprise as he hit the floor.

Before he could do more than lift his head, his arms were grabbed and pulled behind him, and he was yanked back and up onto his knees. Neville struggled to get free but whoever it was that'd caught him was more than a match for him; his attempts were in vain, and after several moments he gave up, sinking back down onto his haunches; his harsh, panting breaths the only noise in the corridor.

There was shouting from downstairs, and his gaze darted in that direction; there were footsteps on the stairs, and he was pulled to his feet, and shoved unceremoniously against a wall; there was the flick of a wand, and a door appeared to his left, he was pushed through it and it slid shut soundlessly behind him. Before the darkness took away his sight, he could just make out the wall in front of him, he was in the space between walls, and the man that had caught him was standing dangerously close behind him.

"Don't make a sound,"

He recognised the voice immediately, and it did nothing to sooth his nerves.

The guards were now in the hall, and Neville held his breath as they passed the spot where he was hidden. But they didn't stop, and within moments they were gone. Professor Snape, however, seemed less convinced, as he made no attempt to leave the confined space.

"And just what exactly am I going to do with you?" He asked quietly, and Neville shivered.

"You could let me go?"

A short, humourless laugh: "And one of the others will catch you, and you'll be right back in the dungeons; if that was your plan, I should have left you in the corridor."

Neville didn't answer straight away, but then clearing his throat he said: "You could help me,"

"I could," Snape muttered. "But I won't."

Great!

"They'll have caught the others by now, I should think."

"They might have got away," Neville ventured.

"Without the correct knowledge, Mr Longbottom, it's virtually impossible to leave Malfoy property without assistance. And vice versa, as Miss Granger and the indomitable Mr Weasley found out to their cost."

Snape turned to his right, and stalked off along the walk space: "Come along, Mr Longbottom."

And Neville had very little choice but to follow.

* * *

The hidden door beside the fireplace slid open and Draco instantly stood up, pulling out his wand; but it was Severus who stepped out into his bedroom, and Longbottom shortly after.

"Draco, good." Severus said, completely ignoring the fact that Draco currently had his wand trained on him. Draco looked from one to the other of them, and then tucking his wand back into his belt.

"What's he going here?" Draco asked, nodding in Longbottom's direction.

"Gryffindor's being Gryffindor's, Draco." Severus intoned. "Reckless and ill-thought-out actions, leading to absolutely nothing."

Draco noted with some little amusement the offended look on Longbottom's face; he also noted the dirt on his clothes and the bump on his forehead. And then looked away quickly. But Severus had seen him staring; Severus always saw him staring.

"I'll need you to keep an eye on him until I can work out what's going on here,"

"You can't do this," Longbottom suddenly exclaimed. "If you're right, then they've already caught Hermione, and Ron, and Harry." His voice grew by degrees until he was practically shouting. "We have to do something, _I_ have to do something."

"Right, I see." Draco muttered to Severus, suddenly understanding in Longbottom's outburst, just how dangerous it would be to let him out of their sight; especially with the Dark Lord due to arrive at anytime. His recent thoughts of what he'd do if he ever had Longbottom in his bedroom, were far removed from this reality.

But then another thought occurred to Draco: "And what are you doing here?"

Severus stared at him blankly for a moment, and then said: "Your mother asked me to come; she thought with everything that's happening, it would be wise."

He could tell Severus was lying.

"I think I know what Eugene's up to," Draco said as he wondered back over to his desk and picked up the book he'd been reading before they'd interrupted him. He flicked through it until he reached the page relating to Rhaetic magic, and then handed it to Severus.

He'd read a lot about Rhaetic stones over the past many hours, and was now certain, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they were what Eugene had been researching so long.

"This type of magic hasn't been used since as far back as the Romans, pre-Roman even." Severus said after a time. "People have tried, of course, but no ones ever been able to work out the incantations."

"I think he's worked it out."

They both stared at each other in silence, and then Longbottom said: "What are you talking about?"

Severus gave him a fleeting look and then stalked across the room and pulled the door open: "I'm going to find Eugene; you should probably get back to the school - time's running out, Draco."

Draco really didn't need to be reminded of that fact.

The door closed and he was left alone with Longbottom: "Are you going to lock me in here?"

He suddenly felt very tired.

"I don't expect you to believe this, Longbottom, but this really is for your own good."

When Draco left the room, he locked and warded it behind him; and for good measure cast a quick silencing charm on the door.

He hadn't realised until right now, staring at the door in front of him, just how quickly everything was slipping away.

* * *

Neville wondered slowly around the room, fingers brushing over the everyday detritus on Malfoy's dresser: an assortment of coins, hair gel, a comb, framed photos with smiling faces; Malfoy with his parents, Malfoy in his quidditch robes, Malfoy by a pool somewhere, sun hat shielding his face; it all seemed so very real, so very domestic.

He turned away, absently picking up a book from the bedside table; flicking through it slowly, odd sentences jumped out at him: _I must be the best that I can be. _and: _I must not disappointment my father._

Neville closed the book and put it back down on the bedside table, moving to the other side of the room. He wrapped his arms around himself, and tried not to think about Malfoy as anything other than the spoilt, arrogant Slytherin everyone knew he was. But as seemed to be the case more and more recently, he kept remembering the look on Malfoy's face back in the bathroom at the start of term; disjointed, distorted and broken, or the look in his eyes when he'd saved Neville from Eugene's assault.

He heard the wards on the door coming down, but it wasn't Malfoy returned from whatever nefarious acts he was committing at the school; it was Eugene.

Eugene stared at him in dumbfounded silence for a moment, and then he laughed, shaking his head: "Well, this is unexpected, but I should really have known there was something between you two,"

"What?"

But Eugene silenced him with a quick movement of his wand: "I was really looking for Draco, but I suppose you'll do, butterfly;" Eugene gave him a slow, predatory smile as he moved closer. "In fact, you're perfect."

Neville moved away from him.

"I was going to try this on Potter, but he's guarded round the clock now. We can't possibly have him escaping just before father arrives, what terrible timing that would be. And I really don't want all the time I've spent pretending to be the silly sop, to have been for nothing."

Eugene circled him.

"And then I thought, Draco; what better way to teach that little irritant, then to have him as my obedient slave. He is rather pretty too, isn't he?"

It was obvious that Eugene thought that he and Malfoy were dating, and Neville had no way to dissuade him of that idea.

"Come here,"

Neville didn't move, he knew there was no way out of the room, but he wasn't just going to give in; not that his resolve had helped him much the last time. Eugene punched him hard and he staggered backwards, holding his nose to stem the sudden spurt of blood: "That'll change soon, butterfly; if this works, you'll never disobey me again."

Eugene hit him with the body-bind curse next and that sent him falling helplessly onto the carpet. Neville felt the adrenalin rush into his veins.

"I realised a few days ago why others couldn't get this to work; I thought it was the incantation, after all who alive today knows how to speak ancient Rhaetic?" Eugene pulled out a knife, the same knife he'd used on Neville in the Gryffindor dorm, and Neville watched it glitter menacingly in Eugene's grasp. "But then I thought, maybe it wasn't the incantation, maybe it was the brand - everyone else seemed to use a similar spell to one father uses; tying one person to the will of the other. I think that's the problem."

Eugene straddled him, his weight resting on Neville's stomach, and he slowly began to open Neville's shirt: "This is really going to hurt, butterfly; but the more you bleed, the stronger the magic will be." He brought the tip of the knife to the flesh above Neville's left nipple, and slowly began to carve.

Neville screamed at the realisation of pain, but no sound left his lips; he couldn't move. He could feel his blood trickle down to the floor, sticky and hot; and Eugene paused in his work, took a small, black, polished stone from his pocket and placed it under the steady stream; immersing it in Neville's blood.

He smiled at Neville before once again turning his head to the task at hand, quietly muttering the alien incantation under his breath.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco was angry, he was angry with Longbottom for being an idiot, and angry with Severus for being a philanderer and angry with Eugene for being a prick, but right now, most of all, he was angry with the Dark Lord for forcing him into his current situation and threatening the lives of him and his parents.

He was standing in the room of requirements, in front of the once broken cabinet with the Hand of Glory firmly in his grasp.

"You did it then?" Draco turned around slowly to face Eugene, but didn't deign to answer. He closed the cabinet and stepped away, the weight in his heart making him feel physically heavy. "It's not long now before you have to prove your loyalty, do you think you can do it, Draco? I don't."

"I don't much care what you think, Eugene."

Eugene smiled, "I know what you do care about though," and he pulled a small polished stone from his pocket, a symbol Draco didn't recognise etching deeply into it. "Do you know what this is?"

"I'm going to presume it's a Rhaetic stone,"

"Clever boy, Draco."

Draco felt his anger boil just beneath the surface.

"Are you planning on using it on me?"

"I was," Eugene replied calmly. "But then I found someone better to try it out on." Eugene's malicious smile transformed his face. "Your boyfriend is quite the fantastic little cock sucker, Draco - I can completely understand why you have him around."

At first Draco's mind threw up a blank, but then it dawned on him that Eugene meant Longbottom; he'd gone looking for Draco in his room and found the other boy instead. His burning anger turned instantly to cold dread. Before Draco could think of a suitable retort, Eugene continued:

"Can you imagine what we can do with this kind of magic, Draco?" Eugene's gaze bore into his, the manic stare making Draco feel less then happy about his current predicament. "Instant, and complete obedience. I mean, just look at what my father has to put up with at the moment; using fear to keep control of his 'loyal' followers." At the word loyal Eugene used his fingers to bracket the word. "Like you, Draco."

"I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Don't you?" Eugene looked at him inquisitively. "I think that it's only your fear of what my father will do to you and yours, that's making you obey - not loyalty or devotion. And it's the same with all of you; petty people, with petty lives and pesky consciences. But with this," Eugene ran his thumb reverently over the smooth surface of the stone. "There's none of that - just blind obedience."

"But it's not permanent,"

"No, but it's a damn sight more reliable than Imperious, and you don't even need to be near the person to make it work. And, it lasts until the task's been completed, what does it matter after that. Think about it, if all of you were branded with this symbol, all father would have to do is issue a command, and it would be done - no hesitations, no second thoughts, no running off tell the enemy, it would just be done."

"So you plan on letting to Dark Lord know about this?"

"Of course, what did you think? _I_ was going for world domination." Eugene laughed. "I want father to win this war. He's just so preoccupied with Potter at the moment, there's no time for him to think out of the box."

Draco's mind was racing.

"In fact, with my little butterfly's help, I'm going to make this all a whole lot easier for father."

"What do you mean?"

Eugene smiled at him again: "Now that really would be telling too much, wouldn't it Draco?"

"Why are you telling me any of this?"

Eugene stared at him thoughtfully: "Maybe I just wanted somebody to know that it was me who made it all possible."

Draco's mouth had gone dry, and he swallowed hard.

* * *

Severus entered the study at the same time as the Dark Lord, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange apparated into the room. He instantly fell to his knees in front of his master, and bowed his head in submission.

"My Lord," he murmured, not daring to look up.

"Severus," the Dark Lord purred. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting Narcissa, my Lord."

"You're fucking her, more like." Bellatrix laughed. "Naughty, Severus: while the cat's away, the mice will play."

"That's enough, Bellatrix." the Dark Lord commanded, and she fell silent, stepping back behind Rodolphus. "I see, Severus - well it's fortunate you are here; if all has gone as planned, then we have a very important guest waiting for us in the dungeon."

With a swish of robes, he turned and headed down the stairs; Severus paused only briefly before following him. It seemed colder in the dungeon now then it had the previous night, but then that could probably be put down to his sudden close proximity to the Dark Lord. The guards on duty outside one of the cells on the right hand side of the corridor, stepped back and bowed down as the Dark Lord passed.

The cell was dark but he could just make out the shape of a boy chained and huddled against the far wall.

"Harry Potter," the Dark Lord hissed. "Mine, at last."

The Dark Lord looked at him, and Severus dipped his head reverently.

"Do you know who made this possible, Severus?"

"No, my Lord."

Just then a shadow moved to his right, and Eugene stepped into the light: "That would be me, Eugene Riddle; I don't think we've been formally introduced."

He really did look the spitting image of Potter, but the significance of his name was not lost on Severus; he dipped his head in submission to the young doppelganger.

"May I ask, my Lord?"

"Eugene is my adopted son, Severus."

Eugene had moved to the bars, and was staring in at Potter with hate filed eyes.

"You've done me proud, Eugene."

"Thank you, father." the boy beamed at him, before turning back to glower at Potter.

Severus knew he should remain silent, but in the end his curiosity got the better of him.

"My Lord, how is it possible that he's kept Potter's image for this long?"

Bellatrix sniggered behind him.

"Oh, it isn't a potion or a glamour, Severus." the Dark Lord muttered. "Eugene, perhaps you'd like to explain?"

Eugene spun around on his heels and grinned at Severus: "We're brothers, twins - identical in almost everyway."

There was movement within the cell, as Potter pulled himself up the wall and onto his feet, stepping forward into the light - he looked as if he'd been suitably punished for his attempted escape, bruised jaw, and left eye swollen shut; blood on the collar of his once white shirt: "That's not true, I don't have a brother."

"Wrong again, Potter." Eugene chimed. "Your beloved Dumbledore advised our parents to send me away; said that with the prophecy, it was safer not to have both of us under the same roof, in case something bad happened, I guess - after all, they didn't know which one of us the prophecy referred to, did they?"

"You're lying!" Potter spat, using his last vestiges of strength.

"Ask Dumbledore yourself, if by some amazing twist of fate you get out of here alive, and if he's still alive when you get back."

Severus stared at both boys, completely dumbfounded.

"Eugene will replace Potter permanently at the school, so as not to raise any suspicions - no one will even know that their precious saviour is dead."

* * *

Neville sat on the floor, his back against the bed, using the white sheet to try and stop the blood beading on his chest. The intense pain had now dulled to a constant ached, and he could now move without feeling faint and light-headed; the darkening pool of blood on the carpet testifying to how much he'd lost.

He knew that Eugene would be back soon, and that he'd make him to do more of the things he'd already made him do; the taste of Eugene was still on his tongue, a continuous reminder. Neville wanted nothing more at that moment than to bury his head in his hands and have a good, long cry; but he knew he wouldn't - he was way beyond that now.

He got up and wondered over to the bedside table, once again picking up Malfoy's diary - he needed some form of distraction, or he'd surely go mad waiting for the inevitable pain and humiliation. Sitting now on the edge of the bed, once again holding the sheet against his chest, he slowly began to flick through it.

"Hey butterfly," Eugene said as he entered the room several hours later; Neville was by this point, lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling; Malfoy's diary, forgotten at his side. "Well, I've had an incredibly successful day: Potter, sorted; Malfoy, sorted; you..."

Neville sat up and stared at him doubtfully.

"Come here," Eugene ordered, and Neville stepped down off the bed and went to him. "Good boy." Eugene ran a hand lightly over his cheek. "Kiss me,"

And although Neville knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he really didn't want to, right at that moment, he wanted to do nothing else - reaching up, he pressed his lips to Eugene's; and Eugene deepened the kiss, pressing him back against the wall, and holding him there. But Neville wanted it, the fierce, demanding tongue, wrestling with his own; he wanted it, for as long as Eugene wanted it.

Eugene pulled back and away from him, and Neville instantly turned his head to the side, not wanting to look into those gloating eyes.

"I'm really going to enjoy you, butterfly."

Neville hated him.

"But we don't have time for this right now," Eugene caught him by the chin, and forced his head back round to face him. "I have a task for you,"


	6. Chapter 6

Severus was once again staring thoughtfully out of the window in Narcissa's bedroom; he'd been trying for the last many rather unsuccessful hours to devise a satisfactory way for everyone to get out of this situation; but no matter which way he turned it, he knew that this would all end badly for someone. Narcissa slipped quietly into the room, she was practically skulking around her own house now; afraid of the Dark Lord's presence.

He turned and she stepped into his arms, so he held her, reassuringly, against him.

"We need to talk about Draco," Severus said after several slow minutes. Narcissa instantly tensed and took a step back, moving to pour herself a cup of tea from the still warm pot. "I can't see any other way around it, Cissa."

"Well, you'll just have to come up with something," she put the cup down hard. "He's done everything they've ever asked of him,"

"That won't make any difference, Cissa, you know that." Severus said harshly. "If he stays here, they'll slowly destroy him; just like they did to Lucius."

Narcissa stared at him, her eyes cold: "And if he does what _you_ want him to do, then they'll kill him; I don't see any win there."

Severus knew she was right, if Draco was caught before he could get back to the school, then they would indeed kill him; but if he did get back, then he knew that Draco would be protected.

"I think it has to be Draco's choice,"

* * *

It took all of Draco's resolve not to react when Longbottom submitted so willingly to Eugene; his hand had gone to handle on the hidden door, before he'd realised and pulled it away again. Eugene was now lounging on his bed, Longbottom sitting meekly beside him: "A little birdie told me that you know the Minister, butterfly - tell me if that's true?"

Longbottom stared at Eugene: "It is true,"

Draco frowned, he couldn't imagine any circumstances in which Neville Longbottom would know Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic.

"I hear that he regularly visits your parents in St. Mungo's?"

"Yes, almost every third Wednesday of the month, unless he's too busy."

Eugene smiled at him reassuringly: "Auror loyalties, I can imagine they're far more reliable than Death Eater ones - I guess that's why he visits them. Am I right?"

"Yes, they used to work together before..." Longbottom trailed off.

"Before your boyfriend's auntie tortured them into madness?" Eugene finished helpfully.

"I don't have a boyfriend,"

Eugene looked amused, but rather than say anything more he got up and started wondering around the room, riffling through Draco's things.

"So, do you think, if you wanted to talk to the Minister alone, that he'd be accommodating - say, if we were to go to St. Mungo's tonight?"

"We often talk alone; he likes to tell me I should be more like my parents."

Draco frowned again.

"Well, he's wrong," Eugene said for him. "You're perfect, just the way you are." Eugene had moved out of his line of sight, it sounded like he was standing just on the other side of the hidden door - and almost as soon as that thought occurred to Draco, the door opened and he was dragging bodily into the room. "Don't you think so, Draco?" Eugene finished with barely a pause.

Draco picked himself up off the door, and brushed the dirt from his robes; willing his cheeks not to burn.

"So this is what you're planning; to bind the Minister of Magic to you?"

"Of course now that you know that, I'll have to lock you in the dungeon too, Draco - no offence, but I just don't trust you at all,"

Eugene pulled out his wand and trained it on Draco; he was not expecting Draco to do the same to him.

"Oh, really?" Eugene mused. "Have you forgotten who I am, Malfoy?"

Eugene instantly fell into duelling stance: "Perhaps I do need to teach you some manners after all."

Draco licked his lips, and took up his own fighting stance; the last thing he wanted was to duel with the Dark Lord's protégée, but he'd be damned if he was going to end up locked in his own dungeon. His first few hexes were easily deflected and he had to twist and dodge to the right to avoid Eugene's curse; he brought his wand up and swung it around, catching Eugene with a well placed incendio; Eugene swore as his robes caught fire and he backed away, keeping his guard up.

Both boys knew that they were too closely matched for this to be a quick and easy fight.

Eugene smiled at him.

They slowly circled each other.

Draco knew what to expect from Eugene, just as Eugene knew what to expect from him - but this fight wouldn't be won by adhering to Wizard Duelling Etiquette. Lunging forward, Draco ducked under Eugene's wand arm, and shoved him hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor. Eugene stared up at him in dumbfounded silence as Draco kicked his wand out of his reach, and brought his own to Eugene's throat.

"Stop him," Eugene demanded, and in the time it took for Draco to realise he was talking to Longbottom, Longbottom had thrown himself at Draco and they rolled to the floor, Draco's wand flying out of hand. The first punch made his head bash painfully back on the polished wood, the second punch he managed to block; he hooked his ankle around Longbottom's and spun them round, so he was in the dominant position, pinning Longbottom beneath him.

He could hear Eugene chuckling behind him.

Draco's wand was only an arms stretch away, and he reached for it, momentarily letting his hold go, and Longbottom grabbed him by the neck with both hands, and started to squeeze. Draco reacted instinctively: elbowing Longbottom hard in the ribs, he wedged his knee up between them, and pressed down hard on Longbottom's ribs, forcing him to let him go.

Draco lurched forward for his wand, and twisted around to face Eugene; they both cast at the same moment, but whereas Eugene's went wide, Draco's hex hit the mark. Eugene flew backwards and hit the floor hard, the air rushing out of his lungs; Draco was on him in the blink of an eye: "Consider this _your_ lesson learned,"

He rummaged in Eugene's pockets and found the small, black stone with the symbol that he knew would mirror the one on Longbottom's chest. Almost as soon as Draco's fingers closed around it, Longbottom, who had been getting to his feet, slumped back down to his knees.

And it was over.

* * *

Severus opened the door just in time to see Longbottom pull back his leg and kick Eugene hard in the head.

"What is going on here?" he demanded, and both Longbottom and Draco spun around to face him. It took no more then a few brief seconds for Severus to take in the bruises coming up on Draco's jaw and neck and the way Longbottom gingerly held his ribs. "Have you two been fighting?"

It seemed quite improbable given what he knew about the boys, but this whole situation was far beyond ordinary.

"It's complicated," Draco said, casting a quick glance in Longbottom's direction.

"It wasn't my fault," Longbottom interjected. "It was him." And Severus was almost certain he was going to kick the unconscious Eugene again.

"He used the Rhaetic on Neville," Draco explained, and Severus suddenly understood; he sighed and stepped further into the room.

"Are you ok?" he asked Draco, and he nodded. "And you?" he asked Longbottom, and he too nodded.

Severus stared at Eugene for a short time, and then turned to Draco: "Well, this actually fits in with the plan."

"What plan?"

"The plan to get Potter and the others out of here,"

Severus knew that his next few words could possibly change the course of Draco's future exponentially.

"You already have Eugene, so it shouldn't be too hard to replace him with Potter. Just make sure Eugene either stays unconscious or that you silence him in some other way so he can't raise the alarm until after you're gone."

Draco stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"That's the plan?" he asked incredulously. "For me to replace Potter with Eugene," he paused. "And then what am I supposed to do?

"You should be safe at the school,"

Draco looked stricken, staring first at him and then at Longbottom.

"You want me to betray the Dark Lord?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"They'll kill me,"

This conversation so perfectly mirrored the one he'd had earlier with Narcissa.

"You have two choices Draco, either you remain here and live the rest of your life in constant fear of the Dark Lord, or you take a chance and hope for something better."

"And you didn't think to tell me that before now?" Draco quipped. "What about mother? You know what he's threatened to do to her if I don't cooperate."

"If you agree to this plan, then your mother will go into hiding in the Muggle world, and I will personally vouch for her safety."

"I bet you will," he muttered desolately. "And father?"

"As long as you and Narcissa are safe, Lucius will be more than able to take care of himself."

And that was the crux of it: together they were one another's weakness, their love and fear for each other keeping them trapped and obedient; but separate they would be capable of doing almost anything.

"I can't do this on my own,"

"You won't be on your own," Longbottom said quietly. "I'll be with you."

Severus was never so glad for the valiant predictability of Gryffindors as he was just then; and he saw in the way Draco stared at the other boy that the decision was made; he was choosing to take a chance in something better, to perhaps become the boy he was never given the opportunity to be; he was taking a chance in Longbottom.

"I don't see why you can't do this,"

"Yes, you do,"

"Ok, fine." he replied, almost petulantly. "So talk me through how you see this happening."


End file.
